


Contact Points

by dogeared



Category: Cupid (TV 1998)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-24
Updated: 2007-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-03 20:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogeared/pseuds/dogeared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the dark, all through the deep parts of the night, Alex touches her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contact Points

Claire doesn't know if this is something Alex has done all along, because in those first heady weeks they were together, she was as fixated on touching Alex as he was on her: the texture of his skin, his hair, the way it slid against her own, wet heat of his mouth, slight softness of his belly, strength in his arms, roving fingers, roving tongues, waves of gasping pleasure and sleep like oblivion.

Now, though, if they're still performing a complicated shuffle day-to-day (trust issues, she would tell a client, redefining the relationship), in the dark, all through the deep parts of the night, Alex touches her. Even while he's sleeping, even if it's just a single point of contact, his forehead presses against her shoulder, or his hand rests on the dip of her back, or his toes graze her calf. Sometimes she rouses to the feeling of Alex's thumb sweeping over her collarbone, slow and rhythmic and soothing. He touches her, he sleeps, and she's awake awake awake.

Her brain turns the possibilities over and over, wonders if it's simple possessiveness, and the thought 95 percent rankles and 5 percent gives her a primal thrill, or if it's about comfort—can she work a question about whether he had a security blanket as a child into a conversation without bringing it to a screeching halt? Probably not—or maybe it's a different kind of insecurity altogether, some buried fear that she's going to slip off in the night when he's not watching, as if she—

As if she were the one who got on a plane to New York.

So maybe there are a few things left unresolved between them. She could analyze this to death, or just ask him—it's what she does, after all, break down motivations, bring secrets out into the open, but she suspects that he won't have the words for this, that he'll shut down or deflect or evade (and she's had enough of that, thank you very much), that he'll suddenly be conscious of something he's been doing unconsciously, that he'll stop. And, well, she doesn't want that.

Claire has everything she wants right here, close enough that she can reach out and touch it—and she can hear Trevor's voice in her head insisting that she's a fool if she doesn't. So she does, brushes the knuckles of two fingers against Alex's warm hip, feels him shift toward her, and oh, oh, she wouldn't have words for this either, because it feels like a connection, like a promise whispered in the dark, like no one's going anywhere.


End file.
